Trust Me, Trust Me Not (Gavert City Book 3)

by Elodie Nowodazkij

  The steps behind me get closer.

  I’m almost there.

  I walk faster until I start jogging to class.

  I hold my breath, not looking behind me.

  I slip into class, my hands still trembling.

  CHAPTER 5 – HUNTER

  As a firefighter, I learned to stay calm, assess the situation, act fast...I learned to read a situation. But as the assistant dean opens the door to her office and gestures for me to enter, I have no idea what she’s thinking.

  “Please take a seat.” She gestures for me to sit on one of the two chairs available in front of what I believe to be her desk. It’s hard to tell. It’s full of papers and books and more papers and more books. And then there’s a computer and files. And a plant that looks pretty dead to me. I’m no specialist but it’s one of those plants Mom would take a look at and tell me, “All she needs is a bit of loving care. Everything can be helped with a bit of loving care.” Yep, Mom still believes in all that, even after Dad screwed everyone, including us.

  I move back a little to give my legs enough room. And look up. The assistant dean is standing behind her desk with her arms crossed. “One of the lecture halls in the Economics building is named after you.”

  I refrain from my urge to sigh. I’m not quite sure where she’s going with my pedigree. Can’t be good. “My last name, yes.”

  “Your grandfather donated the money.”

  Even though it’s not a question, I confirm. “Yes.”

  “Your name is also on the newest business building.”

  “My last name, yes. I’m not sure if they use it as a cautionary tale though. I’m pretty sure they’re going to rename it soon or maybe only mention my grandfather.”

  She uncrosses her arms and pulls a folder from under a book. “You don’t study international business anymore.”

  “That’s right. I am still studying business but with a focus on public administration and I did my certificate in Fire Studies.” I never really wanted to work in international business, but it seemed easy: get summer internships at Dad’s company, learn on the job, and help the family empire (as my dad used to call it) with a happy smile.

  That didn’t work as planned.

  The media called him a wannabe Madoff. His Ponzi scheme wasn’t as big but he still basically stole money from many people—especially retired people—by convincing them to invest with him.

  “I reviewed all the information about your paper from last semester and the emails we received from this student, from Lorn College, five weeks ago.”

  I massage the back of my neck again and force myself to sit straighter. Maybe to look more trustworthy. My dad lied to thousands. And people assume the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree. But in this case, the apple had no idea the tree was rotten. I may look like him but I’d like to believe all I got from him are his brown eyes, his slightly crooked nose, and his height. It’s hard sometimes to reconcile the guy who taught me how to play baseball with the one who stole money from retirees.

  “Do you continue to say you haven’t stolen any information or used the website in question?” She sits down and leans back in her chair.

  “I haven’t used this website or any of those websites. And I’d never heard about that guy until you called me to let me know my case was being reviewed right before school started.” I don’t know how to sound more trustworthy. She’s watching my every move.

  “We can’t seem to reach the gentleman who sent us the email. He was supposed to come to campus to confront you directly and then we were going to go to disciplinary action, but he hasn’t been responding to us and we’re not sure of the date the paper was uploaded on the website, as he only sent us a screenshot.”

  My breath of relief is stopped cold when she purses her lips and narrows her eyes at a paper in front of her. “We’ve discussed it with the ethics committee. And while you have no priors when it comes to misbehaving in class, you also have shown you do not necessarily obey the college rules.”

  My shoulders don’t drop and I make sure to not change my facial expression. No point in scowling or begging. When it all happened freshman year, my dad was still my hero. He had been able to pull some strings and help me. This hadn’t gone over well with some. I get it. I understand it. I was aware of my privilege then. I’m even more aware of it now.

  “We’ve decided not to fail you.”

  I exhale and relax only slightly. She’s clearly not done speaking.

  She leans forward, pushes some books to the side, and puts her elbows on the desk. “You will help Mrs. Jackson with her Shakespeare class. You will also write another paper—a comparison of the Shakespearean work of your choice with a modern adaptation integrating the knowledge you learned from your Literature and Film class from last semester. We checked your schedule and that seems to fit without you having to drop any classes.” She leans back again. “We’re holding your grade until you finish this assignment. Your transcript will show an ‘Incomplete.’ If you satisfy those requirements, we’ll change it back to an A.”

  “Okay.” Like I have a choice.

  “She’s waiting for you to see her after class today. She’s in room 103 in this building. Her class finishes at 10:50 a.m.” She stands up and extends her hand to me. “I want to believe you. My educator’s instinct tells me you’re telling the truth, but you have to understand we need to treat this as seriously as possible. Prove to us we were not wrong to put our faith in you.”

  “I won’t disappoint you.” I shake her hand and hurry out of her office before she changes her mind.

  Once in the hallway, I pause for a moment. I’m a fucking liar. Yep, I’ve said those words before and I’m pretty sure if I came clean, I’d disappoint the one person I want to protect.

  My phone beeps and when I reply, I almost tell him I won’t continue, that I won’t do it. But I need him. I need answers. And it’s not like what I’m doing is really wrong.

  If only I believed my own lies.

  CHAPTER 6 – LACEY

  Those steps behind me. I didn’t imagine them. Someone’s been following me. Again. Could it be Charlotte’s Dad? I can’t look back. I don’t want to know. Or could it be Hailey?

  My heart pounds.

  I slam the door shut and lean against it, breathing hard. If we had been in the newest building, I would have needed to wait for the professor to open the door. Whoever was after me could have caught me.

  “Is everything okay Lacey?” Professor Jackson’s smile is kind but I wish I could rewind and re-enter more quietly.

  The door against me moves slightly, as if someone’s trying to enter. “Excuse me?” a female voice reaches out. I’m tempted to keep pushing back, but Professor Jackson frowns and tilts her head.

  “It must be Sara. She told me she would be late this morning.” I should have emailed her and told her I couldn’t make it to class. But if I miss more of her lectures I’m going to fall even more behind. “Maybe you can find a seat, Lacey,” she adds.

  Back at the compound, I wanted to be invisible.

  It’s the same feeling I have now as every single student in the class turns to me. Elena juts her chin to the empty seat next to hers but she’s in the front—and I’d have to pass the backpacks and other bags people plopped on the floor. With my luck, I’m going to fall on my face or my butt.

  “I’m sorry,” I mutter. “I rushed after my psychology class, then I saw Hunter but I still would have been on time. I was there. In line. But then something—I mean someone—and I had to go. I really tried to hurry. But there were footsteps. Someone. Maybe. But clearly, it was Sara.” The words jump out before I can decide if they even make sense in a sentence. “I’m going to sit now.”

  I slide into a seat close to the back row. The room is small and there are maybe thirty students.

  I don’t think I could be more awkward if I tried. Most of the times, one-on-one and in small groups, I can control my nervousness but in front of a group, I lose eve
ry social skill I ever acquired. It wasn’t like that on the compound. Not until after Noah left. Not until after I helped my sister and brother escape. Not until I had to jump from a burning house.

  I squint, concentrating on what Professor Jackson’s explaining, but my thoughts wander.

  I used to love teaching the little kids, making up stories and voicing characters. I used to laugh loudly for no reason at all in a futile effort to sway people away from my stepdad’s rage. If he was trying to reign me in, he couldn’t strike them. Or so I thought.

  When Noah was still there, I was sometimes scared of calling Abram out too loudly, or even insulting him in private. After he left, after I helped my brother and sister escape, Abram shoved me into a small and musty cabin and locked me up to teach me a lesson—until he decided it was high time for me to marry.

  Marrying girls while they still knew how to “obey” was one of Abram’s self-stated goals. He didn’t realize resistance can start young, but he did punish anyone who resisted his orders. It didn’t matter it was going against previous teachings of The Circle. Abram wanted me to marry the one who became his second-in-command: Mason. Mason only wanted power, like Abram. I had a short-lived crush on him, and didn’t want to be linked to him forever. The former cult leader helped me. He told Abram we were ill-matched and that maybe my vocation was to be a guide to the children. Abram seemed to agree, but he locked me back up. Not sure for how long.

  He wanted to show people what would happen if they disobeyed. Abram enjoyed deciding on people’s fate. When he finally released me, I felt like I could find new ways to help others. I thought I could really make a difference. I was only making a dent in Abram’s influence instead of toppling him down.

  Cass had turned seventeen only a few weeks prior to that grand marriage announcement. Her parents had jumped from joy when they found out, while Cass didn’t know what to say. She believed in Abram, believed in the Book of Truth, believed the lies. She wanted to be good, but she wanted to marry Noah, not that guy Abram had picked for her. He seemed nice enough, but she didn’t really know him. Abram always pretended that he was giving all of us a choice. It was always our decision. Cass hoped she could convince Abram that Noah and she were right for each other. And if she couldn’t convince him, she was even willing to stand up to Master Abram for Noah. For Noah, she was willing to break the rules. She thought that if they got married, Noah would be allowed back on the compound and in The Circle. She was so wrong.

  Maybe that’s why I am taking this class. Shakespeare and I go way back.

  I force myself to pay attention, to keep my eyes open, to take notes.

  “We’re going to watch a few clips of movie interpretations of Romeo and Juliet across the past century. I need you to pay attention to how their meet-cue is translated to the big screen.” She writes on the white board to the right of the class and then clicks a few button on the console in the middle as well as her computer. From there, she also dims the lights in the room. I sit straighter and take a sip from my water bottle. But after a few minutes, the actors living through the painful death of Romeo and Juliet don’t hold my attention. After all, in my life, Juliet is apparently happily married to someone else...and Romeo? Romeo may still be dead.

  The projector’s buzz acts like my own personal lullaby. And even if the AC blows harder in this room than in the Psych building, my eyelids feel heavier and heavier. That day I recited Shakespeare in the compound square, my stepdad didn’t hit me. He stood there and laughed at me but there was so much anger and hatred in his laugh. That day, he took the kids away from me, saying I could no longer teach them, that I was a bad influence, an apple waiting to rot and contaminate everyone.

  Mom didn’t defend me then either.

  “Lacey. Lacey.” Someone calls my name. Mom? Why would Mom call my name? I remember her face, her way-too-rare smile, and the bruises she couldn’t hide. I wish we had another lifetime to mend our relationship, or at least more time. Maybe she’d have realized she could have another chance. At life, at love, at being a mother.

  “Mom,” I whisper. And there’s laughter.

  “She’s asked you a question twice.” Sara who settled in the row in front of me, informs me. And then she quickly adds, “It’s about the Baz Luhrmann’s adaptation.”

  I know that adaptation. Leonardo DiCaprio and Claire Danes. Cass and I talked about it so many times. We both watched it before. She’s the one who said her and Noah’s love was like Romeo and Juliet. She’s the reason I risked a beating to show the rest of the people on the compound that what my stepdad was doing was wrong.

  I take a deep breath. I can answer this. “These clips. Those images. They show. They explain. Love. Hate. Destiny.” I don’t even make sense in my own mind. The whispers in the room become louder.

  Professor Jackson writes something on the notebook she always keeps on her desk and takes a few steps closer to where I’m sitting. “Okay. Which one do you think is more powerful: the scene in the book or the way Baz Luhrmann manages to show their attraction on screen?”

  I glance down. There’s a gum wrapper on the floor. It’s metallic. “I...I’m...I’m not sure.” My face feels hot. I can feel everyone’s stare.

  Everyone stared the day Noah got kicked out. Everyone stared when I recited Shakespeare in the compound’s square, imploring Mom for help. Everyone stared when I pushed my brother Luke away from the fire. When I got marked before he did. I’ll never forget the excruciating pain. I’ll never forget my little brother’s face as the hot iron touched his skin, burned him, gave him the scar that still haunts him sometimes. Because even if I pushed him away, it didn’t changed anything. Luke’s still got through the marking ceremony. Begging Abram to be lenient about Noah didn’t change anything, Noah’s still missing, maybe even dead. Dropping to my knees and crying for Mom to take our side didn’t change anything, Mom stopped defending me long before the fire.

  “I...I’m...I don’t. I don’t know.” I feel like the room’s closing in on me. I clench my hands, digging my nails into my palm, grounding myself. It doesn’t work.

  She turns back to the class but I still can’t breathe normally. “Take the worksheet I gave you on Monday and answer question three. We’ll be discussing it shortly. If you don’t have the worksheet, there are a few left on the desk.” Professor Jackson calmly walks up to me and leans forward, so she can talk very quietly. “Is everything okay?”

  No. “Yes.”

  “Are you sure?” She frowns.

  No. “Yes.” My heart gallops. I can do this. I need to push the memories away. I can’t let them dictate what I do today. Otherwise, he wins. My throat tightens. If Noah’s dead, does it really matter anyway?

  Ms. Jackson clears her throat. “Let’s talk after class.” She strolls back toward the middle of the room to talk to another group of students.

  I stand up because, of course, I forgot the worksheet on my bed. I take a step and my foot gets tangled in my bag. I feel myself fall. And Hunter’s not here to save me this time around. I try to hold myself back. And I can’t. It doesn’t feel the same as when I jumped out of the window...there it felt like the ground was further down. Now it feels like the time the Master threw me on the floor after Luke and Lila disappeared from the compound.

  Mom stood by him even then. She screamed at me too. She only tried to stop him once, when I stopped moving. “You’re going to kill her!” she yelled then. “Don’t you dare kill her! She’s still my daughter. You promised to save all of us!”

  I barely open my eyes. Everything had hurt. He slapped her so hard I thought her head would spin back. Her nose wouldn’t stop bleeding.

  I crawled to where she was, putting myself in front of her then, because I thought then that we were going to fight him together.

  I was wrong.

  When he hit me again, she closed her eyes and prayed. She prayed from the cult’s book—The Book Of Truth. About the world awaiting for us and about obedience. Tears were falling d
own her cheek mixing with her blood. To me, it meant she still cared, but was I just wishing she cared? If she really cared, then why did we stay?

  I struggle to get back up, holding myself to one of the tables. It slants but luckily doesn’t slant all the way.

  My heart feels like it’s going to explode. My chest tightens. I need to get out. “I’m sorry,” I mumble and don’t look back before getting out of the room. “Bathroom,” I call out as if the entire class was on a need-to-know basis.

  I close the door behind me as quietly as possible. I need some fresh air. Fresh air will help.

  I blink rapidly but tears still fall down my cheeks. Why is school so hard? Why can’t I simply fit in? Why can’t I forget my past?

  I turn left toward the exit.

  And scream when someone touches my shoulder.

  “ARE YOU OKAY?” HUNTER’S deep voice has a soothing effect on my heart but my mind still replays images of my past in loop.

  “I...” I inhale deeply, hoping it will help me calm down, but again it doesn’t. “Not sure. I need fresh air.” I don’t know if I’m okay. I know Ms. Martinez wouldn’t lie to me, but what if they just haven’t found his body yet? I exhale slowly. And then, there are my grades. And the fact I just embarrassed myself in front of the entire class. Again.

  I hurry out of the hallway, out of the building, but I can’t get out of my own head.

  Hunter follows me outside and I slump onto the bench that seems to have become my refuge. I inhale deeply and finally feel like I can breathe. The crisp air rushes into my lungs and it relaxes me somewhat.

  Hunter sits next to me. My mind jumps from fear to comfort, from the memories of the compound to the memories of the days at the hospital, where he became my anchor. His hand on my face as he gently carried me to the stretcher after I jumped. The way he spoke to me in the ride to the hospital. His concern when he visited me. The way he managed to make me laugh when I opened my eyes and he was the first one I saw in my room. Our shoulders touch. And the nervous energy running through my body rushes to this one spot. The buzz is exhilarating. He always brings this mix of emotions within me. After my stepdad took away my teaching responsibilities, I begged for them back. And he told me that maybe if I behaved, he’d let me teach again. So for what feels like forever, I work hard to refrain myself, to stay poised, to not show anything, even around Hunter. It’s like everything I’ve tried so hard to push far away bubbles at the surface, ready to explode.